


we grow accustomed to the dark

by ShanaStoryteller



Series: where thou art, that is home [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, all grown up cast, but it's kind of fun, guys i don't even know, i had fun writing it, it's a litte dark though, they still act like children, universe hopping, you don't have to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:13:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaStoryteller/pseuds/ShanaStoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after 'a man may make a remark' Stiles, Scott, Allison, Jackson, Cory, and Danny get pulled into the canon Teen Wolf universe in 3A to fix a wrong Deaton caused and hopefully put this universe on the right track.<br/>This is literally the most self indulgent, ridiculous thing I've ever done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this ENTIRE series sprung from single idea of this one fic, and i had to write it, i couldn't control myself  
> SPOILERS from where thou art, that is home universe: what their lives are like in five years? Look, everyone's happy and healthy who do you think i am

We grow accustomed to the Dark -

When Light is put away -

As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp

To witness her Good bye -

 

A Moment - We uncertain step

For newness of the night -

Then fit our Vision to the Dark -

And meet the Road  - erect -

 

And so of larger - Darknesses -

Those Evenings of the Brain -

When not a Moon disclose a sign -

Or Star - come out - within -

 

The Bravest - grope a little -

And sometimes hit a Tree

Directly in the Forehead -

But as they learn to see -

 

Either the Darkness alters -

Or something in the sight

Adjusts itself to Midnight -

And Life steps almost straight.

 

~ Emily Dickinson

 

The air feels different. The magic of the earth responds to him as readily as it always has, but it's subdued here. Stiles crouches down and presses his hand to it, as if that will call the drunken pulses of power into focus. "You feel it too, don't you?"

Danny nods, his arms wrapped around his torso, "I don't like it here."

"Where is here, exactly?" Allison has had her bow drawn since they woke up, and Cory's knuckles have gone white from her grip on her dagger.

Scott shares a glance with Stiles, and they both sense it, although they're not sure how, or why. "We're still in Beacon Hills - but not ours, and maybe - five years in the past? Our junior year."

"What do you mean not _our_ Beacon Hills?" Jackson demands.

Stiles says, "This isn't home. Terrible things have happened here, and more are about to. If we want to get home, we have to stop them."

"How? I'd rather not go into battle, if it's all the same to you," Cory's hands are against her still flat stomach. Danny squeezes her shoulder.

Scott's eyes shine red while Stiles's goes silver, and he says, "You all go left, we'll go right, and meet in the middle?"

"What the hell-" Jackson doesn't get a chance to finish before Stiles has thrown himself onto Scott's back and they're running off to wherever their High Mage or Alpha senses are pulling them. Everyone turns to Allison, who's still staring in disbelief as her husband runs away. "Well?"

Allison shakes her head before gesturing at Cory. The older woman sighs before saying, "Hale House first - maybe Dad will have an idea about what's going on."

 

"Allison's going to kill us," Stiles mutters, arms tight enough around Scott's neck that it's probably uncomfortable.

Scott winces, "You worry about your wife, I'll worry about mine."

"Derek hates when you call him the wife," Stiles feels the need to point out, "Also, go a little to the left unless you want to miss them by about six miles."

"He wore white at your wedding!"Scott says.

"We _both_ wore white at the wedding," Stiles says, "What are the chances we'll be back before he notices more than half his pack has disappeared into thin air?"

Scott just laughs at him.

 

Lydia has two seconds of heart stopping relief when Allison burst through the doors. Then she sees it's an Allison with a face older than when she'd seen her last, and the three people behind her are equally aged and just as impossible. "Jackson?"

He's just as handsome as she remembers, but this Jackson looks her in the eye and smiles like she's the sun. He winks at her before a woman Lydia doesn't recognize grabs a pale Deaton by the collar of his shirt and yanks him down to her level, "My family is dead, Alan, and according to Danny this entire place reeks of a darkness that your kind shouldn't dabble in. You better have a good explanation for this, emissary."

"Cordelia Hale?" he whispers, and Lydia flickers her eyes over to the other Hale in the room, and she looks as if she's gripping Ethan's shoulders just to keep from falling.

She snarls, "It's Cory." A dagger slips from her sleeve and is pushed flush against Deaton's neck, "This is not my world. I'm tired, angry, confused, and pregnant. I'll have my explanation now."

"Pregnant?" Cora says, and it comes out halfway between a laugh and a gasp.

Her grip on her dagger doesn't loosen, but her face softens, "Cora. Good to see that some people survived the fire. Who else?"

She shakes her head, "What?"

"Keep up. We're not from here, and in our world the only deaths caused by the fire were Kate Argent and those stupid enough to follow her. Who survived it here?"

"Derek and Laura," Cora swallows, "and your father."

"That's it?" she says, and her voice shakes. "No - it's not the time. Where are they?" Deaton shifts, and she presses her dagger close enough that it draws blood. He stills.

"Derek went after Scott," she says, "Your father's probably at the loft."

"And Laura?"

Cora takes a step closer as if to put her hand on Cory's shoulder, but doesn't, "She's dead. Peter, he-"

Cory's dagger slips back into her sleeve, but Allison has her bow drawn again so it all amounts to the same thing. "Peter did what?"

Cora shakes her head, arms spread, "Cory, you're dead. Do you understand? I don't know what your world is like, although it sounds far better than this one, but here you _died_."

"He killed her," she starts to sway, and Jackson puts an arm around her. Lydia glares, tries to push down her jealousy. She doesn't even have Jackson in this life, there's no logic in getting possessive over this one. "He went feral, and he killed her."

Cora does step forward then, cupping her cousin's face, "What's this world of yours like?"

She smiles, placing her hand over Cora's, "Wonderful. I'll tell you more later if I can, but I have to do something."

She turns to walk out, but Allison barks, "Cory!"

"I have to," she turns back, and Lydia feels a little of her jealousy bleed away because there's a tiredness around her eyes and the slump of her shoulders that wasn't there before, "He's my father, no matter what universe, and this may not have been my fault, but it is my responsibility."

Danny wraps a hand around her upper arm, and Lydia's dying to know the role he plays in all of this. "You can't just go off and murder your father!"

"He killed my cousin," she says easily, "and if he's lost his sanity then I can't even imagine what else he's inflicted on the people here." She moves her gaze to the Argent Matriarch, "You did something similar once. Let me go - you can handle this here. I'll meet you."

"How?" Danny says, "You won't know where we are."

"It'll be at the tree, won't it?" she snorts, "It always comes back to that fucking tree."

"You can't go alone," Jackson snarls, "He'll kill you."

"Dad could no more harm me than Derek could Stiles. Now," she glares, "let me go."

Danny turns pleading eyes at Allison, but she sighs and gestures to the door, "Go. Be safe."

"I'll come with you!" Cora says. There's a series considering looks before she adds, more pleading than defensive, "I'm a werewolf. I can help." Cory nods before slipping from Danny's hold and stalking out the door alongside her cousin.

"If anything happens to her," Jackson warns, "her husband will actually kill us."

"Her husband?" Lydia interrupts, and she gets three sets of eyes on her, sweeping up and down and finding her lacking. "You're not her husband?"

Jackson grins, as easy and cocky as it always was on his best days, and says, "Don't be ridiculous, Lyds, I'm married to you. Or, well, other you."

"Oh," she says, and doesn't look at Aiden, "Good."

Danny snorts, "Man, this place is fucking weird. Deaton feels more like a darach than a druid, and you - Lydia, I've never sensed your magic to be so weak. And you look so _young_."

"Not that young," Allison says, arrow still pointed at Deaton, "not in the eyes or mouth. Our Lydia never looked as burdened as this one does."

"I'm right here!" she glares at Allison, but doesn't look at her too long. It could just be that she's older, while her Allison still clings to girlhood this one is a settled adult. More likely it's the easy way she threatens Deaton, the sword strapped onto her back, and natural command presence that her Allison still grapples for.

She raises an eyebrow, "And practically useless. At this age, in my world, you were second in command to the most powerful coven in North America, a banshee of exceptional control, and there were few who could face you on a battlefield and walk away. What are you here?"

She tilts her chin up and straightens her spine, "Alive."

Allison meets her gaze for a moment before grinning, "In this world, it does seem like that's an impressive feat." She turns back to Deaton, "You just performed a spell to summon darkness - and it doesn't reside in yourself, so you are still a druid and may still live. Who did you curse with your poison?"

"It was necessary," he swallows before he answers, has to drag his eyes up from the ground to meet hers.

Allison pulls back the string of her bow, and Deaton goes even paler, "What was?" He stares desperately at Lydia, but she's not so sure she should be helping him out with this. Allison growls, "Don't try my patience. I don't have much left."

 

"You're joking."

"Stiles?" Scott demands, "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking her that," Scott takes a few steps back, because last he knew Stiles was about two inches shorter and didn't have eyes that glowed silver. "You're what pulled me from my nice cushy universe? What is the world coming to."

"I was expecting something else," and Scott's twisting wildly around, nearly smacking Deucalion in the face. Because that's him, that's his voice, only _holy shit_ how didn't he sense that before. This guy with his face is an alpha, but not like him, not a true alpha, but something more. "I wouldn't get out of bed for you in my world. I'd send Jackson, maybe Derek too if I felt you were worth the honor."

"Who are you?" Jennifer asks, and Scott ends up next to a just as confused Derek as he watches his double circle Deucalion, and this other Stiles is making Jennifer start to hyperventilate and he's not even doing anything.

Stiles smirks, "You know who I am - or at least what I am. You're not so far gone from what you once were that you're not still one of mine."

"I have enough power-"

Stiles rolls his eyes, lazily raising his arm to curl his hand into a fist. Jennifer doubles over gasping. "On your knees." She kneels.

Derek has clamped an iron hand around his shoulder, and Scott can't even bring himself to mind. The other Scott is still rounding Deucalion like a cat would to a mouse and he's never been afraid of Stiles before, but this one scares the living crap out of him. "What's going on?"

Derek shushes him before saying, "Alternate universes. It - doesn't happen, as far as I know. But my mom used to tell me stories."

"So that's really me?" he looks at his adult self, eyes still softly glowing red and his head raised like he walks with a crown upon it.

"A you, yes," Derek murmurs, "What's more concerning is that that's a version of Stiles."

The man with his best friend's face has silver currents of magic traveling down his right arm, "You have no power that I don't allow you. You are a darach, it goes against the ways of the earth."

"I'm sorry," she gasps, hands clenched against her stomach.

"What am I?"

"The High Mage," she says, and Derek goes rigid besides Scott, but he gets distracted from asking why by the self satisfied grin stretching across Stiles's mouth.

"Exactly," he releases his fist, and Jennifer begins to breathe easier, but it doesn't last, "You have forsaken your vows and gone against the grain of the earth. You have taken others' power and called it your own. I find you unworthy of this magic you wield, and as such, I'll be taking it from you."

"No!" She starts to crawl backwards, "Please, the alphas, you don't know what they've done! Ask him what he's _done_!" She points to Deucalion, hysterical. The alpha werewolf takes a step back from Stiles, but in his situation Scott would be more worried about his other self who's drawing closer with every lap he takes around him.

Stiles doesn't take his eyes away from Jennifer as he crouches down in front of her. "I don't care what he's done. His actions are not my concern. Yours are."

He reaches forward with the arm that has lightning sparking up and down it. Jennifer leans back, whimpering, "No, no, please, no," and she gasps when Stiles's hand cups her cheek.

"You were a powerful emissary once," he says, "I'm sorry for what you've become." His eyes glow silver and Jennifer screams. Scott presses himself against Derek, because he's seen a lot, but this is terrifying. Twelve shadows flee her body, the twelve sacrifices whose powers she took. Her face morphs back into the scarred monstrosity Kali left it before her heartbeat stops and she slumps sideways to the dirt.

"You killed her," Scott breathes.

Stiles looks at him, eyes still bleeding silver, and Derek's nails are digging into Scott's wrist to the point where he's probably going to draw blood. "I did no such thing. I took away the power that wasn't hers to wield. Her inability to survive without it is beside the point."

The other Scott snorts, and he and Stiles share a grin that's familiar enough that Scott finds himself relaxing. "This one though," the other Scott says, stopping close enough to Deucalion that there's not even an arms length between them, "this one I'm going to kill."

Deucalion draws up his shoulders, "I am the demon wolf, I am-"

Scott tears his head from his body with only his claws. It rolls to a corner while the body topples to the ground. "Actually," this Scott says brightly, "you're just dead." Stiles laughs, and he continues, "Were they really what called us here? Seriously?"

Stiles's grin slips from his face, "No. Something's still putting the world off balance, some darkness. And we're not going to be able to go home until we fix it. And if they weren't it-"

"That fucking tree?" Scott sighs.

"Isn't it always?" he turns his gaze to this world's Scott and Derek, "You guys better come too."

Derek doesn't say anything, but Scott bursts out with, "Are you insane? What the hell kind of universe are you from? We've been trying to get rid of these guys for months, and you did it five minutes!"

The older Scott and Stiles shrug. "We've had more practice," Stiles says, "We are older and wiser and we have the distinct advantage of being able to deal with magic that works properly."

Derek clears his throat, "You smell like my family."

Stiles stares at him, "Dude, I've smelled like your family since I was ten."

"I'd forgotten what they smelled like," he says, and it's so quiet that he probably didn't mean to say it out loud.

This Stiles's face kind of spasms, while the other Scott goes from badass killer to looking like he's trying not to cry. "Oh," Stiles walks toward them, and even though he's still older, he looks more like the best friend Scott knows. It's also super weird to see Derek and Stiles looking the same age. Stiles rests his hands against Derek's chest, and he doesn't even flinch at the touch. "The fire - it happened here, didn't it? People died?"

"They didn't in your world?" He's taking in deep breaths, which would be creepier if he wasn't desperately trying to catch the scent of his parents and siblings that have been dead for seven years. That just makes it sad.

Stiles shakes his head, "Scott and I stopped it. Not here, I guess. What else do I smell like?"

He swallows and glances at Scott, like he hasn't already noticed, before admitting, "Me."

His breath hitches when Stiles raises his left hand, and Scott hadn't noticed the gold band around his ring finger before. "I've known you for thirteen years now, and we've been dating for five of them. Married for two." Scott figures he should maybe be more surprised by this, except he's seen Stiles and Derek interact, and sometimes about some things he's smarter than both of them. "Actually, we started dating around now in my world."

"Are we," Derek's voice breaks, and he has to clear his throat before continuing, "Are we happy?"

Oh god, Scott tries not to think about Derek's life too much, because when he does he ends up alternating between wanting to shove all the people he loves in a closet and wondering how Derek manages to keep from throwing himself off the nearest cliff. Stiles curves a hand around the back of Derek's neck, "We're really, really happy. We work at the same college - I teach literature, on a trial basis right now, and you teach painting and art history. We live in a disgustingly huge house, and because our pack is _ridiculous_ , everyone has their own homes, but fuck if they're ever there. I sleep on the left side of the bed, but more often than not I wake up curled on top of you anyway. Mark and Cora are lawyers in New York, close enough to Grampa Paul to keep everyone happy. Erica and Boyd finally got married last month. Erica named you a bridesmaid just to get you in a dress, and you did it, you were growly and you rolled your eyes the whole time, but in their official wedding photos you're standing there in a butter yellow dress. Talia and Kevin have stepped down, Laura leads the Hale pack now - except for you, of course. You're an alpha, and Cory and Peter are in your pack. You teach early morning classes, because you're insane, and every morning when I get up there's an omelet waiting for me, and when I come in I stop by your class to bring you a thermos of coffee, and -" Scott has scooted away from them and is standing next to his double, but even though Derek's face is buried in this Stiles's neck he can still smell the tears, and now Stiles's voice is strained when he says, "and today that didn't happen I suppose, and maybe you won't think anything of it, but you will, you'll worry, and then you're going to come home, and I'm not going to be there. And then you'll realize other members of your pack are missing too, and Christ, you must be going out of your freaking mind right now."

Derek laughs, and it sounds like he's choking, "Probably. It seems like this other me has a lot to lose."

Stiles pulls away, but cups Derek's face, "I'm sorry you don't have more to lose. It's not supposed to be this way."

He forces his lips into something close to a smile, "It's okay. It happens." He clears his throat, "We should get going."

Stiles searches Derek's face before nodding, "Yeah," he leans forward and gives him a quick, soft kiss, "let's go."

Scott glances at his double, who shrugs, whispering, "Creepy true love soul mates."

He doesn't get a chance to answer before Stiles throws himself on Scott's back and points ostentatiously forward. "Go! Whoever gets there last is a loser."

The other Scott rolls his eyes, but then bursts forward at a pace that leaves Scott blinking in disbelief - he could never dream of going that fast, even without Stiles on his back.

He still takes the time to mutter, "I _told_ Allison I wasn't making stuff up," before putting on a burst of speed to follow them.

 

Stiles is the last person to be pulled out, and he'd _known_ what he was going to see, but still the collection of people are shocking. Allison stares at her double with a mix of confusion and jealousy, and he's be more concerned by that if this other, older Danny didn't have his hand pressed to his chest with a look of deep dissatisfaction. "I take it back - what you did to Deaton was completely justified. I can't believe he - we have to fix this. The tree was one thing, the start, really, but Stiles can't fix anything when he's like this."

"What did you do to Dr. Deaton?" Chris barks, and his dad's eyes are narrowed too.

Allison smirks, "He's still alive - Cora, Lydia, and the twins are keeping an eye on him, aren't they Cory?"

Another figure emerges from the woods, and Stiles's knows those eyes, and the curve of her cheek brings back a flash of memory of Laura Hale. "They were when I left them," she says, and some tension seems to ease from her shoulders when she looks at them, "Isaac, I'm glad you're okay."

"Do I know you?" he asks, nostrils flaring.

The woman grins, "Biblically."

Jackson snorts, dragging his hand over the stump of the tree. "Well, we have to fix Stilinski. Can the tree do it?"

Danny frowns, "I mean, sure. But this Stiles would have to perform the same ritual that our Stiles did, and even if he were willing this is still Hale land. The ritual sacrifice requires the consent and participation of the blood of the land."

"Well, we have a Hale, don't we?" Jackson nods to Cory, who throws up her hands in front of her.

"Oh no, no. I've already killed one family member today, you can't expect me to do it again," she says.

Mellissa steps forward, "Now hold on minute - we're grateful for your help, really, but you need to explain what's going on. Older and from an alternate universe is not an explanation."

It's the older Allison who sighs before saying, "The ritual they did - Scott won't be affected by it, of course, and it certainly won't affect me much," she nods to her younger self, "but Stiles is a being of light. He cannot have darkness within in his heart, not like this. His soul won't react well with it. It's an abomination, and so we were sent here to correct it, and we'll be unable to go home until we do."

Stiles swallows, and avoids his father's gaze when the older man asks, "What will happen to him?"

"He'll go insane, first," Danny says, considering, "although it's likely that it will eventually kill him."

"And you can fix it?" Dad demands, and Stiles wraps his arms around himself, because he's suddenly cold.

Danny slides his gaze to Cory, "Probably."

"What if it doesn't work?" she snaps, "Things are different here."

"He's dead anyway," Allison says, "and a world with an out of control Stiles will end in casualties. Cory, please."

She takes a deep breath before nodding, "Fine. But restrain them - they won't understand."

Danny shoves Stiles toward Cory and the other three make a barrier between them and everyone else. Cory looks toward Isaac and says, "Keep us apart. Don't let anyone interrupt us."

Isaac meets Jackson's challenging gaze, doesn't look at her as he asks, "Why would I listen to you?"

She glares, her hand curved around her stomach, "You know why. I don't care that this is not my universe and you're not my Isaac - you can smell just fine why you're going to listen to me." He struggles for only a moment before nodding, and Jackson and Allison make room for him. His father and  Chris start yelling, trying to push through, but she just continues, "Danny, come here. I'll feel better if you help direct the magic."

He comes forward, and Stiles still doesn't know what to do, what to say, which is a first for him. "I'll do what I can, but this is old magic."

"What is?" he finally snaps, "What's going on?"

"Sacrifice," Cory says gently, "To restore balance, there must be a sacrifice, and it needs to be you. I'm sorry Stiles, but you have to."

"What?" he backs up, only to hit Danny.

The older man's hands settle on his shoulders and turn him around, eyes brown and intent upon his own. "Stiles, I know it's scary, and that this doesn't make a lot of sense, but you need to trust us, just as we have always trusted you. As I have always trusted you."

Stiles can hear his dad screaming, and this is _insane_ , even more than their normal brand of crazy, and he should be running away, far away, he values his life too much to throw it away at the words of people he doesn't even know. "It's really necessary? It will save people?"

"It will save everyone," Danny swears, "Stiles, please. Do this."

He nods, can't bring himself to speak, and the woman, Cory, turns him to face her and backs him up until his calves his the tree stump. He knows that the adults and Allison are still screaming, but it doesn't seem as important. She asks solemnly, "Do you so swear to protect the Hale family? To never move against them, and to do what you can when you can?"

Stiles thinks of Peter, and his voice only shakes a little when he says, "I do swear."

She wraps her arms around his waist and stands on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "I really hope this works." She spins him around, shoves him down and  yanks his head up. He doesn't even have the time to scream before a dagger slides out of her sleeve and slits his throat. Stiles can hear his father crying, but can't focus on it, only feels Cory's body curled around his back, chanting pleas into his ear, and he dies to her hands wrapped around his and her lips on his cheek.

 

Scott and Derek catch up to the other Stiles and Scott about a quarter mile from the root cellar, both of them looking toward it with grim faces. "What's wrong?" Derek asks, panting.

"I can't believe they did that," Scott says slowly.

Stiles shrugs, "We said left, they went left. It'll work too."

"Probably," Scott says, squinting, "What the hell was Deaton thinking?"

"He wasn't, clearly," Stiles shades his eyes as an intense white light starts to glow from where the root cellar is, "Oh, looks like it's working. Would have sucked if mini me died."

"What are talking about?" Scott snaps, resisting the urge to abandon them and find out for himself.

Stiles says, "Looks like Cory killed me over that thrice damned tree to cleanse my heart of darkness and renew the tree both. I bet it was Allison's idea."

Scott grimaces, "Yeah. Come on, this can still end poorly."

They bolt off again, and when Scott and Derek catch up a second time, the older Stiles is making out with this universe's, and that is possibly the strangest thing that's happened all day. "What," Derek says.

Older Scott wolf whistles, and doesn't even flinch when Allison sends an arrow whizzing an inch away from his head. "Hi honey."

"You're in so much trouble," she says, and Scott gets a thrill out of watching he and Allison's double kiss, especially when he notices the matching wedding bands on  their fingers.

Stiles and Stiles disconnect, and he's a little disconcerted to see both of their eyes glowing silver. Also, where he remembers a tree stump there's now a fifteen foot tall tree. He doesn't get a chance to ask before all six of the people from the other universe start glowing. Other Allison barely managed to wink at him before they all disappear, hopefully back where they came from. He lets his gaze wander back over to his Stiles, now the only Stiles, who waves before saying brightly, "Dude, I'm an awesome kisser."

His eyes are still glowing silver, so Scott flashes his red irises and he doesn't know what it means or why, but it feels right.

 

"How necessary was the kissing?" Jackson asks, all of them heading back towards town since they were dropped in the middle of the Hale preserve, at what's hopefully dawn the next morning.

"Mini me needed help grounding his magic," he defends.

Jackson narrows his eyes, "But did you need to make out with him? Really?"

"Not really," he shrugs, "but it's more fun that way."

Cory giggles, smile managing to stay on her face when they break through the edge of the forest. "Well, I'm sure Dad and Isaac are losing their minds, so I should probably get home. Plus, after killing an insane alternate version of my father, I'm in serious need of some daddy-daughter time."

"He'll be thrilled," Stiles say, not sure if he's trying for dry or sincere.  

Danny and Jackson step to either side of her, "Let us walk you home. They're both going to kill us as is, might as well get on their good side now." She rolls her eyes, but slips a hand through both their arms.

Scott shakes his head and Allison rolls her eyes, "Do you want a lift to your house? Assuming Derek hasn't destroyed it in his anxiety yet."

Stiles settles his hand against his chest, feels the rising heat in his bones, "Nah, don't bother, he's already on his way."

Scott pulls a face, "All right, I'm out. There are some parts of Derek I really don't ever need to see again." He picks up his wife in a bridal hold and speeds off.

Stiles is still laughing when Derek bursts through the trees and pushes him to the ground, settling his elbows by his husband's head. "Where the hell have you been?" he growls, eyes red.

He leans up for a kiss, "Alternate evil universe where I didn't stop the fire, lots of people died, and I never became a high mage."

Derek's mouth drops open, eyes fading back to green. " _What_?"

"It's a long, horrible story," he says, tugging Derek down until he's lying on top of him and he can feel the older man's heartbeat, "I'll explain later, but for right now you should just hold me and tell me how much you love me."

His husband sighs, but even if he couldn't smell Stiles's anxiety he could feel him shaking, so he brushes his lips against his ear and says, "I love you more than anything. You are the sun of my life, the reason for breath in my lungs, and you are what fills the space between my heart beats."

Stiles flips them over, and he's still not okay, but he's smiling now, and says, "I'd be lost without you. Utterly, completely adrift, drowning, and the worst part is I wouldn't even know that I could live on air, on you," and kisses Derek so he can't say anything back.

It's good to be home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by popular request! this was done a little quick and dirty, but i hope you like it!

Stiles stays curled up in his bed for two days after. His dad stays by his side for all of it, and Scott's there for most of it. Neither of them say anything about the pens that hurls themselves across the room and into the walls, or the way the bed hovers and moves. He feels like he's drowning backwards, lungs filled with rotten air and gasping for water to wash it out. He closes the shades, keeps the room dark so that every time he opens his eyes he can see the shine of his eyes reflecting off his bedspread. He can't get it to stop, can't make anything stop. There's just this overwhelming sense of being so heavy he'll sink to the center of the earth combined with a fear that if he doesn't keep tight control of himself he'll float away into the stars.

On the third day Lydia comes to him near dawn, and his eyes are squeezed shut when he whimpers. She has shadows moving under her skin, and spark of magic in her that should repel him, it's so different than what's killing him now. His dad is slumped against the wall, and he doesn't stir as Lydia walks around him. Stiles gasps when she presses her hands to his shoulders, doesn't breath at all when she straddles him, thighs squeezing his hips between them. It feels like she's wearing jeans, and he's so grateful she didn't wear a dress to do whatever the hell she's doing. She leans down, presses their foreheads together and whispers, "Look at me."

He shakes his head, just a little, not enough to separate where their skin touches, "I can't," and his voice cracks.

She tilts her head just enough to press their lips together, and he twists his hands in the bed sheets. He can feel her magic crawling up from her throat, probably unconsciously, and drifting against his lips. He opens his mouth, and she lets him, lets more of the darkness she carries inside slide into him. She could have worn a dress, he realizes, moving his mouth tentatively against hers, because she tastes like home and feels like belonging and nothing like passion. He knew he wanted her, that he loved her, but he didn't know this was why. She pulls back, says again, "Look at me." He opens his eyes, and the silver glow makes her look paler and more beautiful. She cups his cheek, rubs her thumb against his skin and says, "I know it's hard. But I was told of something I can be, and I think I need you to do it. I'm not - I'm not darkness," she swears, "the other Allison said I was a second - your second, I think, and you're light, so I am too. I need you to get it together, okay?"

He swallows, the taste of her magic on his tongue, and feels the tears he's been trying to hold back surface, "I'm scared. There's so much - Lydia, I don't know how -"

"I love you," she says, and his body spasms, "not like you always hoped I would, but I do love you. You're brave and loyal and clever, and I would walk through fire for you, Stiles, I nearly have. You trusted me to bring you back, so trust me to keep you here."

He's shaking, fingers trembling when he tentatively rests them on Lydia's waist, "How do I - there's just so much-"

"Is my love not enough?" she leans closer again, more a challenge than a comfort, "What would keep you grounded then?"

"Your love is everything," he says, because it is, this is not what he thought he wanted but it's what he needs.

She kisses the corner of his mouth, "Then use it. Shadows come from light - you shine like you were meant to, and I'll be the shadow at your back."

He closes his eyes, presses his hands against her ribs, and he's loved her, honestly if not fully, for eight years, she's beautiful and fiery and stronger than he'd ever given her credit for. His magic like hers, doesn't understand it, prods at it like it will bite him if he's not careful, and he focuses on her hot breath on his neck while he brings the trembling force of magic back under his control, and it's uncomfortable, but it doesn't hurt exactly, like pulling on pants that are a size too small, it's not great but it's bearable.

"Look at me," she says, and when he opens his eyes it's darker than it was before, because his irises are back to chocolate instead of silver, and he tugs Lydia against his chest and buries his face in her hair.

"Thank you," he says, and she knows, of course, but just in case, "I love you. You are the most incredible person I'll ever meet."

"You might be the most interesting I'll ever know," she yawns, shifting and snuggling into his side, "When we wake up, we're figuring this whole thing out."

"Yes ma'am," he kisses the top of her head, and drifts off to the first restful sleep he's had in days.

 

Cora and Derek are gone, although they apparently stayed long enough to bury their uncle next to their sister. He gets the story from Scott who got it from Cora - "He just let her. He wrapped Cory up in his arms, and _smiled_ while she shoved a wolfsbane soaked knife through his chest. Cora said it was the first time she'd really seen her uncle since before the fire."

There's a letter in his desk drawer, and it has his name in Cora's handwriting on the front. He hasn't read it yet, because Scott told him another story too. He's started rubbing the skin of his left ring finger, itching at the phantom weight of a commitment he never made.

 

"Should we tell Danny?"

Stiles shakes his head, flipping the page to stumble over middle English, "I can - look, even if we told him, it might just create more problems. I could break the bind on his powers, I think, but that would just mean another teenager running around with power he can't control."

Lydia's hand slips into his, and her smile makes it that much easier to breath, "You're getting better, Stiles, every day. I can tell."

"You too," he squeezes, "God, Lyds, you're going to be terrifying."

She flips her hair over her shoulder and her eyes fall back to archaic Latin, "I already am."

 

John drops and shatters his glass at dinner. He doesn't even get the curse all the way out before Stiles is flicking his hand, and it's flying back onto the table, whole. When Stiles looks at his dad, he has a warm, easy smile. "That's amazing."

Stiles flexes his fingers, and tries not to feel like his heart is attempting to leap from his chest, "I wish everything was that easy to fix."

 

They're in the woods, lying side by side after two hours of testing their new awareness of each other, and it's about a two mile radius, give or take. Scott's the first one to break the silence, "Dude, are you - not to pry, or whatever, I'm just-"

"I'm terrified," he says, flinging his arm over his eyes to block out the sun, because if he can't trust Scott then who can he trust, "I have no idea what I'm doing, and half the time I can't even breath. Lydia's awesome, but she - she's dealing with her own stuff, right now. Seeing the other Jackson - it didn't do her a whole lot of good."

Scott swallows, "We're going to college next year. She could go to Oxford. Or Jackson could go to school here."

"She's always been competitive," he murmurs, "and now she's trying to outdo this version of herself she's never even met."

Scott rolls on his side, and Stiles doesn't move his arm just so he doesn't have to see the painfully earnest look on Scott's face, "Have you read Cora's letter yet?" Three trees snap in half and one of them catches fire. Scott snorts, "Is that a no or a yes?"

Stiles keeps Lydia firmly in mind, extinguishes the flames and says, "I'm not ready for that, Scott. He's - they're not even here. I can't think about they'd want to say to me that still matters."

Scott lets his hand rest against Stiles's chest, fingers curling over his shoulder, "I saw the way he looked at you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"And you didn't look like you've ever looked at Lydia or Danny - these past few months, you've looked at Derek like you wanted to punch him and then kiss him, and I think that means something, that you feel both, with Derek, maybe -"

All three of the trees burn, and Scott drops it.

 

He's already heard, of course, but the healing, twisted scars on Deaton's face still come as a shock when he goes to the clinic. "Mr. Stilinksi," he doesn't smile, probably because it hurts, but there's something warm in his eyes anyway.

Stiles swallows, leans against the gate and feels the magic of the mountain ash shift beneath his skin. "I'm a high mage."

"You're the High Mage," Deaton corrects, and Stiles expected jealousy or anger, but he's almost positive that instead he's getting hope.

That makes this so much worse. "I don't think you did it on purpose," Stiles says, "but - you can't mess with that kind of stuff again. It's too powerful for you, you can't sense how it affects the earth. If - if you do something like that again, I'll have to strip you of your powers."

Now would be an appropriate time for the anger, but Deaton clasps a firm hand on his shoulder and says, "Now that we have you, I'll have no need to."

 

It's Isaac that approaches him next, sitting down across from him at the library, and for all that they share the same pack, that they share Scott, they're still not to the point where this is normal. "Did Lydia tell you?" he asks, dragging Stiles's notebook over so that he can start shredding the pages.

"Lydia tells me a lot of things," he sighs, "you're going to be more specific."

"In this brilliant alternate reality, I was happy. I was in love, married. I had a kid on the way, Stiles. I met this wonderful woman who smelled like me and wore my ring and was carrying my child," Isaac looks up, and there are shadows under his eyes, so deep they're almost purple, "Do you know where she is in this world?"

Stiles doesn't look away, but he doesn't answer him either.

Isaac smiles, brittle, and leans forward, "That's right, she's dead. The great love of my life that I could have had died when she was eleven years old, so I'll never know." He wraps his knuckles twice on the table before leaving. "Derek is alive, and you can know. You're an idiot if you don't at least try."

Stiles sits with his head in his hands until the librarian kicks him out.

He still doesn't open the letter.

 

It's summer now, and things are almost easier, six months later. He and Lydia make almost as good a team as him in Scott, and Isaac has finally lost that dead look in his eyes. Allison and Scott are tentatively together again, and his dad looks at him like he's proud of him. Ethan is pushing for them to read in Danny, and at this rate they just might.

It's almost six in the morning when he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls it out, and when he flicks it open it's anti-climatic. It's a phone number, and Cora's handwriting below it.

**He'll never make the first move. Like so many things now, that's up to you.**

It should be a harder decision, he should angst over it for a few days. But he thinks he's wasted enough time.

_let's have dinner_

_*_

 

"Stiles, we're going to be late!"

Stiles slams the door shut, and doesn't drop any of tinfoil wrapped dishes, "Well maybe if someone wanted to help me, instead of just providing useless commentary." He shoves them in the back seat, and sticks his tongue out at the back of Derek's head, because he's a mature twenty three year old adult, before climbing up front.

Derek rolls his eyes, backing out their driveway, "You kicked me out of the kitchen."

"Cause you're useless," he grumbles, pulling out his phone, "Alison told us that we're dead if we're late. She has arrows, she's head of a clan of hunters, she could do it if she wanted."

"She's being dramatic," he assures, but inches up past the speed limit. Stiles is a deputy, there should at least be some perks to compensate for all the anxiety related to his boyfriend running around and getting shot at.

"We've been late to Thanksgiving every year - including the year we did potlock in the dorm, how did we even manage that?" he's texting Lydia, begging her to distract Allison.

"Cora and I drove six hours to spend Thanksgiving with you guys - you were appropriately thankful. They're lucky we made it to dinner at all." He glances to see Stiles leering at him, and snorts.

"That was a good time," he grins, "Whatever, we're having it at our house next year. We literally can't be late if we're hosting it. Lydia and Isaac called dibs, but guess how much I don't care."

"Danny and Ethan have offered too," he points out, because the thought of Stiles in full blown planning mode is enough to give him a headache. Christmas is bad enough as it is.

He scowls, "No. Danny and Ethan are annoyingly fabulous. We're never doing anything at their house. They're lucky they got their wedding reception at their house."

It takes pretty much everything he has not to pat his pockets, because Stiles definitely knows him well enough to notice. He's had it for a year, and planned to unveil it on three separate occasions.

He's chickened out every time.

Stiles is going to say yes. Stiles loves him, and has loved him through and because of so much shit - the first two years that they knew each other belong in a shitty horror film. If Stiles stuck with him through that, they're probably fine. Stile most likely loves him enough to keep him.

"Hey," Stiles hand settles on his thigh, "Are you okay?"

_You're the one good thing I've got. You are beautiful and loyal and I'm grateful, not just today but every day, that I get to love you. Because I do - I love you, and I never thought I'd ever be able to love anyone again, never mind have anyone love me back. I've lived enough of my life without you, every minute was too long, and I never want to waste another of our minutes. You are the everything to me, and I just want to ask you to be one more thing for me - my husband._

Derek nods, covering Stiles's hand with his own, "I'm great."

He'll never get that out, he'll barely manage to stutter out the question, but Stiles squeezes his thigh and gives him a smiles that makes Derek's chest ache, and he knows that it's going to okay.

Stiles loves him. They're going to be fine.

 

(He says yes.)

 

(Obviously.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so on a scale of one to ten, how much would people be interested in a schmoopy christmas fic set in the this universe when everyone is like 25? and i mean the hittwf universe, not the canon one i altered in this fic. cause i'm kind of super tempted.  
> as always, you can follow/harass/send me prompts at: shanastoryteller.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> optional missing scene of Cory, Cora, and Peter, requested by chancecraz

"Cory! Slow down!"

She shakes her head, "You're a wolf, it's not like you can't keep up." Cora grabs her cousin's wrist, jerking her to a halt. She almost recoils when Cory twists to snarl at her. "Let me go! I need to do this quickly so I can get back to them before something happens. God knows what ridiculousness Scott and Stiles are getting into."

She tugs again, but Cora doesn't let go, "Have you known Stiles long, in your world?"

"Since I was eleven - thirteen years!" There's fury and fear carved into the older, familiar lines of her face, and her free hand rests against her stomach.

Cora takes a step closer, places her hand over her cousin's, "Who's the father?"

She huffs, and her eyes skitter toward the loft that's so close, but says, "I don't know if you know him here - Isaac Lahey?"

Cora laughs, and tries to pretend it doesn't sound like a sob, "No, I know him. Does that make you Cordelia Lahey then?"

"Of course not," the look of disgust on her face almost makes Cora want to laugh for real, "he became Isaac Hale - as if my father would stand for anything else." At the mention of her father they both sober, and this time when she tugs her wrist out of Cora's grasp she lets her. "Come on. The sooner this is over with, the better."

Cora follows her, tries to find the eleven year old she remembers in this women, and nearly cries at how easy it is.

 

Peter is curled in the corner when they enter, and Cora's breath catches in her throat at the sight of her uncle with his legs pulled to his chest and forehead pressed to knees. Cory doesn't pause, falls to her own knees in front of her father and curves her hand against his cheek to lift his face, "Hey Dad."

"You're dead," he croaks, and his eyes are red from crying and lips bleeding from his own teeth,   
"I know you're dead - I heard it, I _smelled_ it-"

Cory shushes him, maneuvering his compliant limbs so that she can crawl between his legs and rest their foreheads together, "I am not from this world. In my own, I lived - we both did." She brushes his tears from his cheeks with her thumbs, "I am your anchor there just I was here - and what are you, without your anchor? Without your pack?"

Peter begins to sob anew and crushes her to his chest, "Don't leave. Don't -"

"You know what you've done," she says, and Cora has to stuff her fist in her mouth, "So you must know what I have to do."

Peter's hand is fisted in her hair and he pressed his face into her throat, scenting and scent marking her both, "Don't go, please, don't leave me, not again Cory, please."

Cory reaches for the dagger strapped to her hip, and Peter doesn't even twitch at the sound of steel dragging against leather, "I love you, you know that? I'll always love you, even when I can't forgive you, you've always been my anchor in this ridiculous, crazy life we live. How might I have turned out, if I'd grown up less loved?"

Cora's sobbing is covered by Peter's wet, gurgled gasp as Cory plunges the dagger into his heart, and she holds him through it, whispers promises of love into her father's ear until his body goes slack with death, and then lays him gently on the floor. She presses a quick kiss to forehead as she closes his eyes before she stands. Her face is weary, but dry, and Cora can't help herself. She throws herself bodily into Cory, grasping at her likes she's still barely ten and her older, human cousin still holds all the secrets to the universe, like where Mom hides the chocolate chips.

"Hey," Cory's hugs still feel the same, even as an adult she's still short, and warm, and feels like the home Cora doesn't have anymore, "it's okay, it's all going to be okay. We're going to help you guys fix this."

"You're still going to be dead," she whispers, "and I'm still going to be alone."

Cory backs up just enough so that she can look Cora in the eye, "You're never going to be alone. You still have Derek, and Stiles and Scott, all of them - they'll be your family if you let them. They'll love you if you let them. You're not alone, not by a long shot."

"They're not you," Cora's fingers are tangled in the material of her cousin's shirt, "They're not Mom or Dad or Mark or Pete or Laura-"

"They're as good as," she kisses Cora hard on the forehead, "Now come on, we've got to get back to the others before they screw it up."

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this odd little side story!  
> if you want to follow / harass me / send me prompts, you can do so at: shanastoryteller.tumblr.com  
> also you guys got this because i missed my flight and so I'm stuck in a airport in rome for 24 hours


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